


A million, trillion things

by iiscos



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, college AU and obligatory Christmas(-ish) fic, previous Isco/Jese, suggested Cris/Gareth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:16:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iiscos/pseuds/iiscos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The holidays are always rough for new singletons, but at least, Isco can count on his friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Singleton

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory Jamisco Christmas(-ish) fic after watching too many rom coms this holiday season. Partially inspired by an Aziz Ansari skit about Craigslist and concert tickets.
> 
> I'm also trying to get back to writing after a hectic semester. Finishing fics will be my New Years Resolution this year.

Isco waddles into the kitchen, yawning as he retrieves his box of Cocoa Rice Krispies. He pours himself a generous bowl, in direct response to the timely rumbling inside his stomach, before hopping onto the vacant stool next to Lucas.

“Hey, man, you alright?” Isco asks his dour-faced Brazilian roommate, as the latter chews on boring Raisin Bran.

“Our neighbor was having the weirdest sex last night,” Lucas says.

“Uh, really?” Isco cringes at the thought of Diego Costa, their resident weed dealer, engaging in any form of fornication, particularly the creative kind. Maybe that’s why Lucas’s eyes are dull cold pebbles, the shadows beneath his lashes blacker than usual.

“It was some intense fucking,” Lucas grimaces with his eyes pinched shut. “And it lasted two hours with no real rhythm. They didn’t talk the entire time, except for a few grunts—like _real_ laborious—it sounded painful.”

“Oh.” Isco ducks his head, smiling sheepishly. “Real sorry about that—I think that was me.”

“That was _you_?” Lucas echoes, disgusted.

“No, I mean—I was doing a work out. Online.”

Lucas glares at him skeptically. “I thought you didn’t work out during the winter.”

“You know what they say,” Isco shrugs, “Living well is the best revenge, so I figured, why not go at it?”

“What inspired that?” Lucas still appears mildly annoyed.

Isco sighs, reluctantly recalling the night before, when Dani had found him during his third consecutive viewing of Annie Hall—Ben and Jerry's in one hand, tissue box in the other.

“ _For fuck’s sake, Isco, I’m about to hold an intervention,_ ” Dani had shouted, yanking away Isco’s blanket in one swift motion.

Isco, of course, was naked underneath, squawking indignantly as he attempts to cover his privates with his Labrador’s tail. Messi grunts noncommittally as his owner yanks him onto his lap.

“ _Go take a shower, brush your teeth, eat something besides Cool Ranch Doritos, Christ! Get your life together!_ ”

“So in a nut shell,” Isco explains, wincing, “Dani found me during a sad movie binge, naked, crying, on the couch, with my dog.”

“You mean on _my_ couch, you asshole!” The Brazilian shouts. “I bought that couch!”

Lucas stomps to the sink, dropping his bowl angrily on top of their piling dishes.

Isco swallows a mouthful of cereal, before attempting to placate his roommate. “In my defense, my bare ass wasn’t even touching your couch…Well, it wasn’t until Dani yanked away my blanket. You should direct your complaints to him, since obviously, we’re both victims.” 

“Fuck. You. Alarcon,” The Brazilian articulates each word with meaningful disdain.

“Alright, alright, let me make it up to you.” Isco hops off the stool. “Or more accurately, let Dani. He has like a hundred bucks to blow off on alcohol tonight.”

“Why?” 

“He won tickets to the holiday concert in a raffle, but those campus-held events aren’t his thing. So he sold them, and we’re planning to spend it all on booze. Wanna come?”

Lucas blinks vacantly at him. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” Isco wheedles, “Dani’s treating this round.”

“Still no.”

“We’re going to Circo.”

“The gay club?”

“Yeah, where else am I supposed to find a quick hook up?”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Was that supposed to convince me?”

“I don’t know,” Isco shrugs. “You never bring anyone home, so I’m honestly not sure what you’re even into, even though we’ve lived together for two years, and you’re one of my best friends. But I respect your privacy and preferences, whatever they might be—that is, as long as they're within morally and legally accepted boundaries. Hey, remember that time when you had your root canal, and I stayed with you the entire time. I even held your hand.”

“I never asked you to,” Lucas states.

“I know, but I could tell that you needed a friend, so I stayed. And all that floss I took from the dentist’s office? We were set for a year and a half.”

“Fuck, fine!” Lucas curses at the ceiling at the end of a long, exasperated sigh. “I’ll go with you, but if you get drunk enough to strip-karaoke again, I swear I’m leaving you.”

~~

The holidays are always rough for new singletons, because there’s nothing like the triple whammy of Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years to remind you of how insufferably lonely you are.

But Isco doesn’t miss Jesé, not since a month ago when the Hip-Hop starlet raised the prospect of an open relationship, just as Isco settled in his post-orgasm high. Jesé has never been one for emotional availability, although he appropriately compensated in the bedroom, and Isco would be lying to say that the obscene amount of sex wasn't in any way enjoyable. Weeks passed like this, and then months, with neither of them wanting to talk about the future because they knew that the moment the subject leaves the tips of their tongues, the end of—whatever the hell they had—would be foreseeably near.

Isco doesn’t miss Jesé, but he does miss falling asleep with a warm body against his, or waking up knowing that someone is waiting for him, thinking about him, wishing to see him, and the thought alone makes waking up easier altogether. But now, there is nothing but a void in his life, and all this excess energy with no one to direct it towards.

At least Isco has his friends to count on, even though Dani has Adriana now, and Nacho has always had Maria. Lucas doesn’t appear to have anyone, but he seems perfectly content being his indifferent self, and in a way, Isco is jealous.

So maybe this is the best solution after all—forcing himself to go out, have fun, catch up with old friends, make a few new ones, and most importantly, forget. Isco was perfectly fine before Jesé came into his life, and certainly he can continue living now that Jesé has left. 

~~

“Woah, woah, woah!” Sergio grins delightedly behind the counter of the dimly lit bar. “Is that Dani Carvajal I see?”

“Shut up, Ramos. I’m still straight.” Dani drops himself onto a barstool, flipping a finger at the barista.

“Well, what could a straight man be doing at a gay club?” 

“Desperately guarding my heterosexuality, that’s what.” Dani rolls his eyes. “What do you have on tap?”

“Well…” Ramos arches a brow, decidedly ignoring the inquiry. “If you were seeking help in getting young Isco back into the dating scene after his disastrous fling with young Jesé, then you’ve come to the right person.”

“How did you know that?” Isco groans at the ceiling. He had hoped that their relationship had been kept on the down low, considering that he and Jesé did very little together outside of their private sex lives. But word travels fast within their small campus, he supposes, and having Sergio has their local barista certainly catalyzes the diffusion of information.

“I know all the secrets.” Sergio winks knowingly. “And the good lays. So what are you in the mood for tonight? Blondes? Brunettes? Both? Fernando and I are always looking for a third.”

“Ugh,” Lucas gags, “I could’ve gone a lifetime without that visual.”

Ramos scoffs, jerking a thumb towards the Brazilian. “And this is the team you’ve assembled? With Debbie Downer here?”

“Shut up,” Lucas scowls as he climbs onto the stool next to Dani. “They owe me a drink.”

“Why?” Sergio asks.

“My ass touched his couch,” Isco sighs, occupying the other seat beside Dani.

“Asses are supposed to touch couches.”

“Not his bare ass!” Lucas objects.

“What is so terrible about that, anyway?” Isco responds defensively. “My ass was clean. It’s a nice ass.”

“Babies, please,” Dani attempts to be a calming influence. “I didn’t cancel dinner with my beautiful girlfriend just to hear you two bicker in a gay club.”

“Okay, fine, drinks, drinks.” Isco ignores Lucas’ snort, making grabbing motions across the counter to Sergio instead. “I need to be the right kind of inebriated to rub my junk against a handsome, chiseled stranger.”

“That’s what I want to hear!” Sergio throws his head back and laughs. “Tequila shots for everyone!”

~~

“You’re walking on a fine line, you know?” Lucas’ voice is slightly slurred around the edges, lacking its usual bite.

“What’re you talking about?” Isco asks, downing his fourth drink.

More and more people have poured into the club as the night progressed, pushing and crowding against the bar so that Isco is now shoulder-to-shoulder against Dani. The music has grown blaringly loud, almost too loud to hear one’s own thoughts let alone the words of another, but Isco is too focused to take notice, deliberating on the right moment to join the dance floor as the fire in his stomach liquefies into courage in his veins.

“Yeah, you better get out there, man.” Dani claps him on the shoulder. “Before we find you passed out in the toilets.”

“I know, I know.” Isco hops off the stool, but he doesn’t move right away, awkwardly shuffling his feet instead. The clubbing scene is nothing new, but there’s something about this particular mass of faceless strangers and his friends’ expectant eyes that make Isco second-guess himself. “I just—need to shake off the nerves first.”

“Don’t sweat it, kiddo.” Sergio winks as he pours tequila into tiny, phallic-shaped shot glasses. “You look great.” 

“Yeah,” Dani laughs, wrapping a heavy arm around Lucas’ shoulders, despite the Brazilian’s obvious discontent. “We’ll make sure Lucas gets safely home, if you decide to spend the night with a lucky gentleman suitor.”

“Let’s not get carried away.” Isco rubs nervously at the dark scruff beneath his chin. 

“Or if you’re in the mood for a quickie, may I suggest the broom closet?” Sergio generously offers. “The added privacy really outweighs the old, mildew smell, but watch out for the low shelf. You can knock yourself out for days on that fucker.” 

“Okay, stop it.” Isco wrinkles his nose. “It’s awkward enough with you guys just sitting here watching—”

“If you don’t want to do this, then don’t.” Lucas’ intuition can be startling, but Isco decides to ignore his festering doubts, not wanting to end the night in such an anticlimactic fashion, especially since he is already _here_ and accompanied by three supportive friends.

He does eventually musters the courage leave the bar, following one more round of tequila shots for good luck. He moves tentatively at first as he tests the water, but the mingling with the other club-goers feels almost instant, their bodies molding perfectly with Isco’s. And before long, Isco finds himself rocking to the heavy bass and swaying into open arms, dancing himself wild without a care in the world.

~~

“God, that was so much fun!” Isco exclaims into the brisk December night. “Did you guys see me out there?”

Dani slings an arm across Isco’s shoulder, even though Isco had assured him countless times that he feels completely fine. His feet are still a bit wobbly, and every word he says sounds like an inside joke in his head, but as the seconds pass, he senses sobriety settling in, the exhilarating high of the dance floor long abandoned with the closing of the club.

“Oh, yeah,” Dani assures him, “And I’m glad I had a few drinks in me too.”

“So who won?” Isco asks, rolling his eyes when his three friend looks at him with varying degrees of surprise. “Come on, I saw you guys throwing 20s on the table.”

“Lucas did,” Sergio sighs, teetering on the edge of the sidewalk as he kicks an empty bottle cap. “Can you believe that?”

Isco wonders if bartenders are allowed to get drunk with their customers, but then again, Sergio has never been one to abide by the rules.

“Sergio betted on a closet quickie,” Dani explains, “And I—knowing that you’re a romantic—said you wouldn’t settle for anything less than car sex. We obviously gave you too much credit.”

“Oh, come on,” Isco pouts, “It’s not like I didn’t do well for myself.”

Lucas flashes one of his rare, tipsy smiles. “That baby-faced guy with the forehead seemed pretty into you. He wasn’t bad looking.”

“Yeah,” Sergio agrees, “I think he left his number on your ass when you were trying to photobomb those drag queens.”

“Oh really?” Isco tries to twist and catch a glimpse of his rear but only manages to conjure a headache. “What does is say?”

“Call me sometime, with a winky face,” Sergio reads, lifting Isco’s coat and tugging his down his pants a little. “Lucas V.”

“Oh my god, his name is Lucas too!” Isco laughs as if it’s the funniest joke in the world. “How’d you feel if I fucked someone who’s your namesake?”

“I don’t care,” Lucas glares at him, “It’s a common name.”

“What if like—you hear him moan your name and shit every night?” Sergio quips in, grinning. “ _Oh, Lucas, you’re so tight! I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you’d be feeling it for days!_ ”

“Please,” the Brazilian snorts, “Are we actually pretending that Isco does anything other than lie on his back, making selfish demands?” 

“Hey,” Isco protests in a small voice, “That’s rude.”

“Well, just don’t forget to copy the number down before you shower,” Dani laughs. 

“I guess.” Isco straightens his coat, feeling too sober now as the first flakes of snow settle on the cracked pavement. “It’s just that—something about this doesn’t feel right. I don’t know.”

Lucas pinches his brows. “I thought you were over Jesé.”

“I am,” Isco insists, “But honestly, I had a better time drinking with you guys than grinding up against some stranger. You guys are my best friends, and we hardly see each other anymore. I’m honestly glad we did this.”

“Jeez, Isco, you’re really tugging at heartstrings here,” Sergio teases. “As a barista, I do live for these drunken confessions.”

“Oh, come on.” Isco shoves his friend off the curb. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“I still think a good blow job was more than warranted tonight,” Sergio insists.

After a moment of consideration, Isco says, “I have those concert tickets too. I bought them the day they came out, because—well, Jesé will be in it.”

“And you haven’t sold them yet?” Lucas arches a brow.

“I forgot, okay?” It would’ve been a more convincing lie if weren't for the defensive undertone beneath the prompt response. “And that’s beside the point. I’m saying we should sell these _now_ and go bar hopping next weekend, or something. We don’t even have to go to gay bars.” 

He shoots Dani a meaningful look, but Dani waves it away. “Don’t worry about me. This night was about you.”

“But, I don’t want it to be about me anymore,” Isco insists, “I just want to hang out and have fun with you guys. What did you do with your tickets, Dani? Craigslist? Say you have two more going for the same price, come on.”

“Okay, okay, I can do that,” Dani relents. “But I’m just worried that...”

“That I’m not over Jesé?” Isco tries to sound casual. “Just because I didn’t fuck anyone tonight doesn’t mean I’m not over him. I’ll do it when the opportunity is right, you know? When I can take the guy home or something, and not have to worry about strangers walking in.”

Isco hopes he has done a believable job, but it’s hard to evaluate yourself when your head is still dizzy, and the edges of your words are slurred. Dani shrugs his shoulders, accepting the suggestion without further questioning, while Lucas kicks at the falling snow a few steps ahead, appearing to have lost interest in the conversation. Sergio is grinning though, and he winks at Dani. 

Isco initially wonders why Sergio would knowingly bark up the wrong tree, but in the next few days, he will come to realize that his barista friend has come up with the worst plot imaginable to get him back on his feet.

~~

SELLING 2 SOLD OUT 2015 WEST LAFAYETTE CAMPUS ANNUAL HOLIDAY CONCERT TICKETS

MONEY NOT NEEDED, HOWEVER, TO AQUIRE THESE TICKETS, YOU MUST BE WILLING TO PERFORM ORAL SEX FOR HALF AN HOUR. MUST BE MALE (AGE 20-25). MUST REMOVE SHIRT. MAY BRING A FRIEND FOR SECURITY PURPOSES

IF INTERESTED CALL: 917-887-4800


	2. The Unrequited Lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update, and happy Christmas Eve! Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> One more chapter after this, when James meets Isco ;-)

Why is that when you’ve fallen for someone, you always happen to display the least inspiring version of yourself?

James isn’t so arrogant to think that he’s the best catch in the world, but he has enough confidence to believe that attraction has a good chance of being mutual if he were to put himself out there. He goes to the gym three times a week, he can dance, he’s six feet tall on a good day, and he has a smile that has gotten him out of a number of unfortunate situations, as well as an impressive sum of tip money after a long night of waiting tables. 

But that is not to say that James does not experience set-backs, the most glaring of all being his wallet. He’s flat broke, which makes going on dates difficult, but James has never been one to back away from a challenge, especially with the promise of love dangling so alluringly like a bait. Impressing someone with money is easy, but cleverness, charm, and a good sense of humor—that would take more careful orchestrating. 

And it’s not like James will be in this financial rut for the rest of his life. He’s only working two part time jobs to pay for his college, and once he gets his engineering degree, surely things will look up. 

So James is actually an investment—for anyone interested in getting involved—and this, combined with his decent looks and disposition, James genuinely believes that his confidence is appropriate. 

However, all this confidence goes straight out the window whenever Cristiano comes into the picture. Cristiano is the star player of their university football team. He comes from an affluent family, is incredibly good looking, and constantly surrounds himself with people just as blessed and beautiful as he is. One would assume (or hope) that he has a shitty personality, because everyone’s imperfections have to manifest somewhere. But no, Cristiano is actually one of the kindest, most generous, and easygoing people James has had the pleasure of knowing—and that, in itself, is unfair. 

When Cristiano is not busy with football or classes, he spends his time doing community service at animal shelters and underprivileged schools. Children love him, and so do animals, and it’s only certain adults—boggled by insecurity, jealousy, and plain mean-spiritedness—who could possibly find an issue with his self-assurance, fashion choices, faux tan, or other trivialities rightfully shadowed by all the good he has done.

Cristiano organizes charity events too, like the first annual athletics body issue calendar, where he personally appeared as Mr. February, his birthday month. And ever since, the campus football pitch has never been greener or better watered. (James does own a personal copy, but it was a gift—he swears!)

And all of this would’ve been fine if Cristiano had stayed in his exclusive, untouchable circle, leaving James to ogle from afar. But the universe is cruel in it’s disregard, and James knew that he was irredeemably fucked the moment his and Cristiano’s paths had crossed.

~~

James unlocks his front door and pushes into his apartment, only to find the path partially obstructed by cardboard boxes. His roommate Toni is on the couch with his laptop open, scrolling through infinite panels of knitted sweaters.

“Sorry,” the German mumbles an apology without removing his eyes from the screen. “I’ll bring those down to recycling tomorrow.”

“Tough week, huh?” James smiles, hanging his jacket on the hook behind their door.

Toni shrugs—his expression deadpan and aloof—but James can tell that the pressure of academia is not lost on his roommate, despite the German’s natural affinity for the biological sciences. Toni buys sweaters online when he is stressed, and judging by the piling of recyclables by their front door, this week is incontestably finals for the science majors.

One facet of going to a prestigious university is that a good portion of your peers comes from families who can actually afford for them to go here. Toni is another example, his parents both neurosurgeons in Germany. He grew up as an only child, and toys often took the place of human interactions. However, Toni was only limited to one new toy a week, and that obviously taught him self-control growing up.

“I have a pullover that I can’t return anymore.” Toni tosses James a gray, heather-knitted sweater, the tags still attached. “You can have it if you want.”

“Sure, thanks,” James says, trying the sweater on. The wool is a bit scratchy against his neck, but how can he say no to a free sweater with the winter looming. “And sorry about rent this month. I—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Toni waves a dismissive hand. “Just pay me back whenever you get the chance.”

James opens his own laptop, a hand-me-down from his cousin who just graduated from university. A few keys on the keyboard get stuck if he’s not careful, and the screen is tinted orange for some unknown reason—giving all his files a weird, vintage look—but it is usable nonetheless, and James prays every night that it can carry him over until the next semester. He logs in through his university portal, only to see the advertisement for the annual holiday concert. 

“A hundred dollars a ticket,” he huffs, exasperated, “Who can even afford to go?”

“No one,” says Toni.

“Rich people can,” James corrects.

“No one here is rich. Only their parents are rich.”

James concedes with a sigh, pushing his laptop aside.

“It’s been sold out for weeks,” Toni continues, “I didn’t think you were interested.”

“Not really, but I figured, maybe—I can ask Cristiano to go. He mentioned wanting to go, but he forgot to order tickets.”

“I thought you were going to let that lie.”

“I know, I know.” James buries his face in his hands. “But it’s just hard, okay? When he walks in every morning and orders a venti soy caramel macchiato with his banana-kiwi protein shake, how do you say no to that?”

“Do you dot the _i_ in his name with little hearts too?” Toni rolls his eyes.

“No, but I did compliment him on his haircut, and he complimented me on the coffee." To ensure Cristiano’s continued business, James has perfected the art of coffee brewing in a matter of days, while others may have taken weeks. “And soon, he will realize he’d be lost without me there every morning, handing him legal, addictive stimulants just the way he likes it. The barista-customer relationship is one of the most intimate in the service industry, you know?”

“You’re going to have to quit your job,” Toni states, and James would agree for the sake of his own emotional well-being if the decision wouldn’t hurl him into a financial crisis. 

Cristiano is a tough one to read. Laughter, jokes, and little anecdotes are his natural state, even during the early hours of the morning. James finds Cristiano’s energy refreshing, the way he jogs into the café in his neon running shoes—his smile already reaching his eyes—while others are still mere shadows of themselves in their semi-awake state. 

“ _What’s the difference between a dirty bus stop and a lobster with breast implants?_ ” Cristiano asked during one of their earlier interactions.

“ _I—uh, don’t know?_ ,” James stuttered, caught out.

“ _One is a crusty bus station and the other is a busty crustacean_ ,” Cristiano said, before proceeding to laugh himself silly. “ _Can you believe an eight-year-old told me this joke?_ ”

As their unlikely friendship developed, Cristiano invited James to his football matches. James would go when he had a rare evening to spare, and if Cristiano happened to spot him from the pitch, he’d smile and wave and point to the crowd. After the game, Cristiano is almost always too busy to talk to—surrounded by his clique, hounded by the school press, tailed by fans and admirers alike—but James did muster the courage to ask Cristiano to a drink one night, and Cristiano’s easy acceptance felt like a victory on its own.

The night wasn’t a disaster per se, but it could’ve gone better had James managed to quell the nerves that rendered his mind startlingly blank and his body paralyzed with apprehension. Cristiano was polite, nodded along as he sipped at his drink and carried his fair share of the conversation burden with his usual, easygoing charm.

This cycle repeated a few more times, where James would ask Cristiano to a drink, coffee, or the occasional lunch. And Cristiano would accept if he hadn’t already made other plans, but he never once initiated on his own, never once made the gesture to progress to dinner, a movie, or a lustful night together. So James can only conclude that Cristiano either missed his advances completely—as awkward and obvious as they had been—or that Cristiano is simply not interested, subtly rejecting him while trying to maintain their friendship.

Either way, James visibly cringes every time he thinks about it. 

“Do you really think this holiday concert will win him over?” Toni sighs, grimacing at his laptop screen, “Because I might’ve just found the solution for you.”

“What?” James blinks, barely catching those words.

“People are reselling tickets on the campus market,” the German explains.

“It’s no use,” James frowns, “I can’t afford them.” Not with rent for the next month looming, and James still owes Toni for this month.

“They’re not asking for money,” Toni says after a long moment’s consideration. “But I don’t think you’ll like this either.”


	3. When James meets Isco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was determined to complete this so I wouldn't go into the new year with 4(!!) WIPs. I'll come back from time to time to fix little mistakes. This is probably the most cutesy thing I'll ever write.
> 
> (and now to complete my not so cutesy post-apocalyptical Jamisco AU, which i need to reread because it's been so long)
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and happy holidays!

James shouldn’t feel so surprised that people like this exist—the comfortably wealthy who can afford to be shameless, arrogant, and absurd. But he supposes that regarding these people with unadulterated disdain would be hypocritical, since he needs these tickets to impress Cristiano, and the opportunity wouldn’t have arisen if it weren’t for the hubris of such individuals. Thus, James decides to approach this ordeal with an open mind. Despite how awful the person might seem for putting up that atrocious ad, who is James to judge before actually meeting the guy?

“Is the address in the GPS?” Toni asks, his hands gripping the wheel precisely at the 9 and 3 o’clock positions.

James nods, fidgeting with the seat belt in the passenger seat. “Thanks for coming with me,” he says once they stop at the first intersection.

“No problem,” Toni returns, and after a brief moment of deliberation, he continues, “So what exactly am I supposed to do?”

“I guess just wait around for half an hour or so. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Do I have to be in the room?”

“God—no!” the Colombian stutters, “I just need you downstairs by the phone, so if you don’t hear from me in 30 minutes—I don’t know—call the cops, or something.”

Toni’s lips form a small, amused smile. “I can’t believe this ad isn’t a joke.”

James frowns. “I called, but the guy who picked up couldn’t stop laughing. Then he gave me this address and told me to find someone named Isco. Who knows? Still could be a joke.”

With the exception of his raised eyebrows, Toni appears otherwise stoic. Most concerns are unspoken with Toni, but James hopes that the truly urgent ones would be divulged aloud, because honestly, if a situation arises where Toni personally and outwardly intervenes in his life, James would literally drop everything he is doing and reconsider his decisions since birth.

“I gave it some thought, you know?” the Colombian jokes, trying to sound light-hearted. “Worst case scenario, I stumble into a human trafficking ring.”

“Worst case scenario?” Toni pinches his brows in thought, “He could be a cannibal. Would that be worse?”

James laughs, although he is unsure what the appropriate response should be.

~~

“I don’t know if I can go through with this,” James blurts out, tense at the edge of his seat. The GPS had led them to an apartment building on the other side of campus, and by the end of the short car ride, the well of confidence has long run dry.

“It’s not too late to turn the car around,” Toni offers, but James shakes his head. 

“No, I have to do this. I’ve gone too far to back out now!”

“You really haven’t,” the German sighs, maneuvering his vehicle to a vacant spot across the street. 

“I’m just being paranoid,” the Colombian cringes, “It’s just—What if this guy makes me do something I don’t want to?’

“Then you say no, get up, and leave.”

“What if he won’t let me?”

“You don’t think you can take him?”

“How am I supposed to know if I haven’t even met the guy?”

Toni fails to conjure a snippy response this time. It doesn’t make James feel any more secure.

“You’ve hooked up with guys at bars before,” the German eventually answers, “Just treat this like one of those times. Except it’s blind. A blind hook up, in exchange for an expensive commodity. Happens all the time.”

“Okay, what if I do this?” James straightens in his seat. “I’ll go up, knock on the door, see who answers—and if it’s someone whom I feel physically threatened by, then I call if off. How does that sound?”

“I guess that works,” his German friend shrugs. 

“Cool,” James smiles, pleased with his idea, “But can you come up with me, in case—you know—I need a second opinion?”

Toni sighs, rolling his eyes.

~~

They travel up two flights of stairs and walk down a narrow corridor, before passing an apartment reeking unashamedly of weed, worsened by the thick carpeting lining all the halls. Thankfully, the address points them not to that apartment, but the one next door. James knocks twice, and it takes almost an entire minute—during which the Colombian contemplated running away many times—before they even hear a stir inside.

“Hey, sorry about that,” Isco—presumably—says as he sticks his head through the narrow opening of the door. “I thought you weren’t coming until 8.”

Isco is shorter than James, but they look around the same age and build. He has dark hair, a scruffy beard, and shining brown eyes framed with magnificent lashes. He’s wearing a loose-fitting T-shirt, wet at odd spots—evidence of a fresh shower in conjuncture with the dampness of his hair. He’s cute, and James doesn’t realize that he has been staring until Toni clears his throat, elbowing the Colombian in the ribs. “Hi—sorry—I’m James, and this is my friend, Toni. You’re Isco, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah,” Isco says, looking over his shoulder into his apartment. “Let me grab the tickets from my room. Why don’t you guys come in? My stupid dog will try to bolt out if I keep the door open too long.”

“Yeah—no—well, he’s not staying,” James flashes a friendly smile, shoving Toni out of sight.

“I don’t mind,” the smaller male shrugs, “It won’t take long.”

“Half an hour?”

“Really? They said that?” Isco furrows his brows, perplexed. “It should only take—like, a minute.”

James blinks at Isco’s retreating figure, unsure of how to respond. Toni is already halfway down the hall by then, waving a hand in a curt farewell. “Don’t enjoy yourself too much,” the German says without turning around, “Or you’ll to have to figure out your own way home.”

~~

Once inside, James is again unsure of what to do. The apartment looks standard, normal—a bit bare, if anything. There is no blood on the walls, pagan altars tucked away in a corner, or any signs of a human, drug, or sex trafficking establishment hidden behind the second-hand furniture. The TV is on, showing highlights of last weekend’s La Liga matches. The only viewer is a large, yellow Labrador lounging lazily by the foot of the couch, evidently unconcerned with James’ presence.

Isco is still rummaging in his bedroom for the concert tickets when James shrugs off his jacket. He decides to take off his shirt too, while waiting.

“Yeah, sorry they’re a bit wrinkled,” Isco says, returning, “I can also print out the receipt if you'd like—”

The smaller male halts in his step, his words vaporizing from his tongue. James’ own smile vanishes upon realizing the expression of sheer mortification on Isco’s face.

“Sorry—” the Colombian stutters, wringing his hands awkwardly against his jean-clad thighs. “Is this not what you wanted? Did you want to take it off yourself, or something?”

Several complicated emotions flicker across Isco’s face—shock, horror, confusion, realization, and eventually, unadulterated rage. “God _fucking_ hell!” he shouts into the air above them, “I’m going to _kill_ Carvajal!”

There’s a piece to this story that he's missing—James is certain of it by now.

“Sorry— _shit_ —sorry,” Isco grimaces, “My friends are assholes, and this is their idea of fucking with me. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh,” James says, realizing as well, “So you weren’t planning to—”

“No!” Isco buries his face in his hands and screams. “I just wanted to sell these like a normal human being!”

“Yeah, I see,” James ducks his head, wishing he hadn’t thrown his shirt onto the far end of the couch and out of arm’s reach. He deliberates for a long moment, before eventually swallowing his shame. 

“This is going to sound bad but—is there any way we can still carry on with this?” He makes a vague gesture with his hand.

Isco looks at him in disbelief. “What?”

“There’s this guy, and I’ve liked him for a very long time—and I need these tickets to finally ask him out.”

“But you can just pay me.”

“The thing is—” James feels hotness rushing to his cheeks. “The only reason I’m here is because I don’t have the money.”

Isco stares at him long and hard, the weight of his eyes only adding to the embarrassment pouring over James. “And you absolutely need these to ask the guy out?”

“Yeah,” James bites into his lips, “I know this seems weird and desperate, but—I really think it’ll work.”

Isco grimaces, setting the two stubs of paper on the coffee table between them. “Okay, why don’t you just pay me back later when you get the chance? I’ll trust you.”

“No, you don’t understand,” James swallows hard, feeling pathetic, “I’m working two jobs just to get by with tuition and rent— _barely_ at that. I’m never going to have that kind of money just to spend on concert tickets.”

“Alright, fine!” Isco blurts out, and James can tell how pained his voice is, how much he wishes this conversation has ended ages ago. “Just take them. Merry fucking Christmas!”

“I—I can’t do that,” James stammers, “They’re expensive.”

“It’s fine!” the smaller male practically shouts, “I don’t want them, anyway!”

“Come on, just let me do it!” James takes a step forward, only for Isco to take a step back. “It’ll be good. I’ve been prepping all week.”

“Ugh!” Isco groans, mortified. 

“No, I mean, mentally prepping,” James quickly corrects, “It’s not like I do this often—or _ever_.”

A heavy silence hangs over them, before Isco licks at his lips nervously, finally speaking, “What did they say you had to do?”

“Just a blowjob.”

“I knew it was fucking Sergio!” Isco’s anger seems to flare once more and again, directed at someone whom James doesn’t know. “Damn him and his obsession with blowjobs!”

“But I mean—who doesn’t like being blown?” James jokes, before quickly retracting his smile when his lightheartedness is evidently unreciprocated.

And after that, it only takes a few more rounds of pleading, fervor, and puppy-dog eyes before Isco finally relents. They settle in the living room with Isco on the couch, his legs open just wide enough for James to kneel in between.

James sits on his heels, his palms resting against the inside of Isco’s thighs. Isco is tense, and understandably so, but James is willing to draw this one out until Isco is comfortable, relaxed, and enjoying himself, until he fully comprehends just how _thankful_ the Colombian really is. 

James pours his heart and soul into blowing Isco, teasing him to full hardness with hands and tongue before taking him inside his mouth. James doesn’t try to make a show of it like he usually does, wanting to focus on making Isco feel good without implementing himself too much in this experience. Isco could be thinking about someone else, for that matters, and James wouldn’t feel insulted because this is still business in a way, and Isco should do whatever is easier for him. Neither of them are here because they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.

But curiosity does get the better of James, and he would sneak a glance at Isco from time to time. And whenever he catches the smaller male staring back, James can feel him tensing up again as his eyes quickly dart away. And it doesn’t take long—even with Isco’s initial reserve—before hands are gripping at James’ shoulder.

“Fuck,” Isco groans, hips stuttering and head tossed back, as James licks around the head, teasing the slit as his hand continues to pump along the shaft. James can feel Isco grow restless, his sighs no longer restrained and his touches more daring. James feels clumsy fingers tracing the shell of his ear, threading through the hair just above his forehead. 

“Shit,” Isco swears again, this time pulling James off. James gets the message, wrapping his hand around the shaft and jerks him off quickly. Isco has his hand under James’ jaw now, urging him up. 

Isco kisses him first, his lips warm and insistent. “Sorry,” he whispers after only a second or two, “Is this alright?”

“Yeah,” James says, “Yeah—of course.”

They kiss until Isco comes into James’s hand, and by then, James is impossibly hard, his entire body shuddering when Isco cups him through his jeans.

“You really don’t have to—” James says, only for Isco to scoff and roll his eyes at him.

And when Isco pushes him onto his back and insists on returning the favor, who is James to complain?

~~

The small talk afterwards is awkward as hell, with both of them sitting in silence on either ends of the couch. James at least has his shirt back on.

“Uh, that was nice.” Isco is the first to speak.

“Yeah, it was,” James agrees.

“Thank you, I guess?”

“No—really, I should be thanking you.”

“Yeah, you really must like this guy,” Isco muses, “To suck another guy’s dick for concert tickets.”

“Yeah, I guess,” James shrugs, feeling a touch of shame returning now that the excitement has settled.

“Alternatively, you could’ve just paid me like 100 bucks,” Isco grins at him, “But you weren’t willing to do that.”

“Hah. Fuck you!” James laughs, and it’s the first time that they’re both laughing. James likes the way Isco laughs, and the face he makes when doing so—mischievous and boyish. “Why didn’t you want these tickets? Not your scene?”

“No, my ex is performing in it.” Isco quirks his lips ruefully. “We just broke up so…”

“Who’s your ex?”

“Jesé Rodríguez.”

“Shit man, J-Money is your ex?” James fails to contain his surprise. “I love that guy!”

“Uh, yeah,” Isco looks sadly at his folded hands, making James immediately regret bringing the subject up. 

“But I mean, he seems like a dick though,” the Colombian babbles uselessly, “And he has an unfortunate hairline and a butt-chin. You seem like a good guy. You can do better.”

“You just met me.” Isco turns to him, incredulous but smiling.

“Yeah, but you have no idea now nerve wracking this whole thing had been for me,” James ventures on, just as gracelessly. “I imagined it worse— _so_ much worse. I’m glad it was you—you know?”

“Thanks, I guess?” Isco grins at him

James flushes, ducking his head. He also decides to change the topic then. “Man, I just feel bad for making Toni come. My friend. He’s probably still waiting downstairs in his car.”

“He could’ve stayed,” Isco winks at him, and James feels a twinge that he later would realize was jealousy. 

“Nah, Toni? He’s only into like—hardcore, dungeon sex.”

“Oh, uh—To each his own, I guess?” Isco blinks at him, words failing. He looks taken aback, which James is glad for, because he wouldn’t know what to say if Isco was actually into that sort of thing. He’s also not sure why he decided to tell that blatant lie about Toni. Hopefully, it doesn’t get back to his German friend.

The door unlocks then, as a dour-faced, dark-haired guy walks in.

“Uh—Hey, Lucas,” Isco greets with a smile, but there’s a touch of uneasiness in his voice, as if bracing for punishment. Lucas shifts his eyes from Isco to James, and then back. 

“Did you guys just have sex?” he asks, his intuition impressive and startling at the same time.

Isco grins sheepishly. “Define sex.” 

Lucas howls in frustration, storming past them to the other side of the room, before angrily opening a window. “Fuck you, Isco!” he shouts, “If anyone should be having sex on that couch, it should be me! ME!”

~~

The next day, James spots Cristiano just as the latter is leaving the coffeehouse. The Colombian inhales deeply, before greeting, “Hey, Cris! Hey.”

“Hey.” Cristiano turns around, flashing his usual smile.

“So I was wondering—” James begins to recite the words he had practiced so meticulously leading to this moment. “—if you’re busy this weekend, because—”

“Actually, I am,” Cristiano stops him, his lips pressed in a small, regrettable frown. “I’m going to that concert to see Karim perform his rap routine.” He then adds carefully, “With Gareth.”

“Oh,” James says.

“I figured that—you should know.”

James nods, braving his best smile. “Yeah, that’s fine. I mean, it wasn’t anything important, anyway.”

“Alright, cool,” Cristiano says, “Well, I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah, see you, Cris.”

And just like that, Cristiano is gone. James sighs, pocketing his hands as he heads to the staff room in the back of the café. He takes a few extra minutes to get ready, letting Cristiano’s parting words sink in. And after assessing and reassessing his current predicament, the Colombian is surprised to realize that he’s not as disappointed as he thought he would be.

~~

“I don’t get it,” Dani complains as he and Isco line up at the newly opened café in their university bookstore. “Why am I the only one atoning for this when it was obviously Sergio’s idea?”

“Because I expected shit like that from Ramos,” Isco contends, “But you, Daniel, you are my best friend, and I trusted you. It was the ultimate betrayal.”

Dani rolls his eyes. “You don’t seem that upset, for someone who had just been ultimately betrayed.” 

“I never said I was hard to appease.” Isco shrugs as they’re finally called to the counter.

Sergio, clad in a cheery orange apron, greets them. “Salutations, citizens!” 

“Christ,” Dani says, “Do you work at every establishment on this campus, or something?”

“Guy’s gotta live, eat, and pay for his liquor somehow,” the barista winks, “And enough with the small talk. It’s rush hour, can’t you see?”

“Alright, you better get your wallet ready,” Isco nudges Dani, “Because I’m ordering a $6 drink today.”

“What’s this all about?” Sergio arches a brow.

“I’m stuck buying Isco coffee until the end of time,” Dani sighs, “All thanks to your little prank.”

“Well, in that case,” Sergio responds happily and without a hint of remorse, “May I suggest one of our specialty drinks? Overpriced, sugary caffeine guaranteed.”

Isco squints at the chalkboard behind Sergio. Since he had already tried all the spiced latte varieties in the past few of days, he eventually decides, “Dirty chai.”

“What exactly makes a chai dirty,” Dani asks.

“A shot of espresso— _Jeez_ , don’t you know anything?” Isco half-snorts, before turning to Sergio. “Can you make latte art with mine?”

“Sure, I can,” Sergio smiles brightly, “Although you’ll have to ask the guy who’s actually making your drink.”

Isco is still debating whether latte art is worth the unnecessary human interaction with a stranger, when he hears a shushed cursing from behind the coffee machines, the voice all but too familiar. 

“Hey, again,” James smiles shyly at him, fumbling with the knobs and switches. “Sorry but—looks like this might be a double dirty, if you don’t mind?” 

Isco is stoic with mortification by the time he reaches the table where Dani is perched, sipping at his regular iced coffee. 

“Oh, that’s nice,” Dani remarks, peering at the steamed milk patterns in Isco’s cup. “Is that a swan?”

“You know that guy who answered your ad and gave me a blowjob for those concert tickets?” Isco blurts out, ignoring his friend’s previous comment. “Well, guess what? He works here now.”

“No way.” Dani cranes his neck to looks beyond Isco’s shoulders, and Isco panics, shoving Dani back into his seat.

“Don’t be so fucking obvious!” he hisses. “Finally we get a coffeehouse on the way to class, and I can never come here again. This is the worst!”

“You’re overreacting,” Dani says, his voice thankfully lowered to a reasonable volume. “Who cares?”

It’s complicated, Isco thinks. James has crossed his mind more than a couple of times in the past few days, so much so that Jesé feels like a long, distant memory at this point. James seems like a nice guy, and the blowjob was more than satisfying despite the bizarre circumstances leading up to it. And Isco did experience a certain kind of solace talking to the young man about their respective relationship woes. They are both learning from their blunders, after all. 

Isco never had any real hopes of seeing James again (given the other’s own romantic pursuits) but that never stopped fanciful thinking from entering his head. And it’s hardly anything he can divulge to Dani with confidence. Who ends up falling for someone after bartering concert tickets for sexual favors, anyway?

“Maybe you should look on the bright side,” Dani suggests, taking the spare napkin that came with Isco’s chai. 

“What?” Isco, in his wallowing, barely registers the words.

“You seemed to have left a very personable impression.”

Isco wrinkles his brows, before finally realizing the message on the piece of tissue, etched in dark blue ink.

_Hi Isco,_

_There’s a concert tonight, and I just happen to have two tickets. I’d like to take you if you’re not busy._

_Please note that a ‘yes’ will earn you a free coffee!_

_-James_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for stopping by! Comments are always loved :-)


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